


Breathe

by NSUVAfterDark (NoSleepUntilVacation)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, Blindfolds, Body Worship, Dom Papyrus (Undertale), Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Gentle Sex, Healthy Relationships, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Married Sex, Massage, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Stream of Consciousness, Sub Mettaton (Undertale)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 20:54:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17251238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoSleepUntilVacation/pseuds/NSUVAfterDark
Summary: Mettaton loves performing, but even he has his limits. When he comes home exhausted one night, he's perfectly fine with letting Papyrus take the wheel.





	Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> So this idea came into my head, and since I can't fit it into my plans for any of the unfinished porn stories on my account, I'm posting it as a separate thing. It's one way to celebrate the new year, isn't it?

"Just lie down and breathe."

That's exactly what Mettaton does at the moment, lying flat on his back, with his hands to his sides, on the bed. His face is tilted upwards towards the ceiling, but he isn't staring at it; thanks to the sleeping mask covering his eyes, he can't really stare at anything except the darkness. But he can still hear, and he can definitely still feel; he feels the fibers of the soft towel beneath his body, and the air gently surrounding the rest of him. The armor covering his chest and shoulders rests on the bedside table near his gloves, while his tights and boots lie on the floor; it's just him and his sleeping mask now.

He loves the life of a superstar, entertaining and inspiring the masses by partaking in his passions, but there is a truth about it that even he won't deny: it can be exhausting. And this particular day, where Mettaton had been literally working for hours from the morning until after the sun went down, was enough to tire out even a dynamo like him. Papyrus, his always-dependable husband, offered to help him relax after the two shared a very late dinner - and going by his tone, he did not simply mean lying in bed together.

Sometimes when the two make love, they do it as equals. Other times, Mettaton likes to take control, playfully teasing Papyrus until just the right moment, whereupon he'd make the wait absolutely worth it. On nights like this, though, Mettaton is more than happy to surrender control, doing exactly what Papyrus tells him; Papyrus is always very loving and gentle, and he loves to heap on the piles of praise.

And that's precisely why Mettaton is more than happy to do what Papyrus says: just lie there and slowly inhale and exhale. It has a regulating effect on his magic, and he can already feel his cooling systems run just a little more strongly; his body feels so tense from the events of the day that he could almost become one with the mattress. He's been giving, giving, and giving some more today, and now it's time to do nothing but receive.

As he continues to breathe, his heart quivers in its casing. He knows Papyrus is going to do something eventually - that's the whole point of this - but when? And what? The suspense is bound to attack him from every angle; then again, he supposes, given how much he likes to keep Papyrus in suspense, it's only fair for the roles to be reversed every now and then.

Finally, the mattress begins to shift. He feels Papyrus' presence growing closer and closer, and then, a gloveless, bony hand takes his gloveless, metallic hand.

"You're so beautiful and inspiring. Because of you, so many people believe in themselves even more than they otherwise would have." Papyrus' voice is surprisingly quiet for his standards, and Mettaton soon feels the back of his hand rubbing against a smooth, pearly surface that he knows is Papyrus' teeth. After this makeshift kiss, Papyrus continues. "And I, the Great Papyrus, know for a fact that you being in my life is one of the best things that's ever happened to me. That's why I want to show you just how much I appreciate the work you do!"

"Oh...?"

In that instant, Mettaton feels Papyrus' forehead gently pressed against his own. "I think you'll really, really like this. But if you don't, please let me know. I certainly would not want to do something that's supposed to help you relax, only for it to make you more tense!"

He smiles at Papyrus' words. "You're so thoughtful, my love." And it's for this exact reason that he trusts Papyrus enough to willingly submit to him; Papyrus would never deliberately do anything to make Mettaton uncomfortable, and even if he were to accidentally cross Mettaton's boundaries, he would always honor Mettaton's requests to stop.

"Anything for you," Papyrus whispers before leaning back. "Well, I should get started now!"

Mettaton quivers a bit, wondering exactly what that entails. He keeps his ears on alert for any clues -  _what exactly do you mean by "get started", beautiful?_ \- but he doesn't need to wait for long. It's just a few seconds before Papyrus' hand softly cradles Mettaton's right hand, and the flat smoothness of his teeth presses against each of Mettaton's fingers, one by one. He lets out a short gasp at first before closing his eyes - for all that does to change how the world currently looks to him - and letting out a soft, tuneless hum as he smiles. It's amazing how a blindfold can make him feel especially attuned to everything.

Once he's through with Mettaton's right hand, Papyrus repeats the process on his left hand, giving every individual finger a skeleton kiss. But once he's done with the last finger, he lingers for a bit before gently tracing one of his phalanges around Mettaton's ring finger, right below the piece of jewelry that makes the finger live up to its name.

"You've made me so happy..." Sometimes it's almost surreal for Mettaton to hear Papyrus' voice as a gentle whisper, but at times like these - where he can just hear the sheer _love_ in Papyrus' voice - he doesn't mind at all. His heart flutters; he can still remember the wedding, where he and the man he loved celebrated their feelings for each other in full view of their friends, family, and fans. And that night, when they shared their love behind closed doors... even though they already had experience with each other, the simple act of merging souls before making love just made Mettaton feel so _free._

And he knows for sure that Papyrus feels the same way, both then and now.

He hopes he doesn't cry - it would feel quite awkward to wear this blindfold with tears moistening the inside - but he still lets out a soft, nearly-inaudible sigh. _Tell me more, sweetheart..._

It doesn't take long for Papyrus to deliver on Mettaton's unspoken wish (sometimes he wonders if Papyrus can read minds). Papyrus ever-so-slowly nuzzles his way up Mettaton's arm, and Mettaton gasps and shudders slightly - he hadn't even noticed that his arm could be quite that sensitive! But those gentle, yet sure nuzzles against the softer, more tender skin of his inner arm...

(Every time he discovers something new about himself like this, whether by his own hand or by Papyrus' hand, he can't help but wonder what sorts of lengths he could go to so that Alphys knows how much he appreciates everything about this body. She'd made something that, in many ways, was a work of art, and he really wants her to know just how happy it makes him; the days of him taking her for granted have long since ended.)

Papyrus reaches Mettaton's shoulder and delicately buries his face in the synthetic silver skin while sighing softly. Mettaton and his soul both begin to quiver; god, he loves Papyrus so much, and he wants to just reach up and rub his back, spoiling him because he _absolutely_ deserves to be spoiled, and not just because of right now - but it's been an exhausting day, and Mettaton doesn't mind this arrangement, either.

_What about tomorrow morning, though...?_

For the briefest of moments, he wonders if Papyrus is going to spare some attention for his other arm, and then he feels him leave his shoulder - _seriously, does Papyrus actually know how to read minds?_ \- and begin lavishing attention on his lonely arm. He smiles; all those little dramatic poses he'd done today had a way of adding up (and of course he has to dramatically pose; he's Mettaton, and Mettaton without dramatic posing is like Papyrus without puzzles - it just doesn't happen!), and Papyrus has always been good at relieving his tension.

When Papyrus moves up and nuzzles Mettaton's other shoulder, the smile only grows bigger. Mettaton loves wearing shoulderpads for both protection and fashion, but every now and then, he'll gladly slip out of them for one reason or another - a different outfit, a trip to the beach or somewhere similar, or even simply a romantic night with Papyrus. Sometimes he feels a little vulnerable without his shoulderpads, but he always knows that Papyrus will never hurt him when his guard is down.

He feels Papyrus' face leave his shoulder before those familiar bony hands slowly begin to glide down his chest; Papyrus softly sighs again as he presumably looks Mettaton over.

"Wowie... you're so beautiful..." Papyrus' skull returns, resting on those literally-sculpted muscles. "You've always been my favorite sexy robot."

Mettaton can hear his own soul casing run a little more loudly than usual. It was always moments like these that made every moment he'd had to spend waiting for his body absolutely worth it; he truly feels beautiful and sexy and in his element now that he has this body, and hearing people praise it - whether in the form of his fans cheering for him or Papyrus giving him a compliment like right now - never fails to make him feel validated.

And, of course, if there's one thing that Mettaton knows about his own body - and if there's one thing he knows Papyrus knows about his body - it's that no session of praising it is complete without acknowledging his other two limbs.

It isn't long before Papyrus leans back up and begins to slowly run a hand down Mettaton's outer thigh, with his other hand joining in on the other leg soon afterward. Mettaton's heart begins beating just a little faster; he knows it isn't long before the main event, at this point. But Papyrus seems to have learned a few things about keeping people in suspense; Mettaton has no idea what Papyrus is thinking, but he can still feel those long fingers as they slowly glide down his perfect legs with a feather-light touch. He lets out a soft sigh; having worked those legs all day, he'd just love to flip onto his stomach and let Papyrus rub all of the residual tension out of them. Knowing that Papyrus has plans, though, he decides to wait.

Papyrus' voice returns. "You're always praising my hard work, Metta. And that's why I want to return the favor; your hard work always inspires me, and it's inspired lots of other people. Acting and singing and performing... because of you, lots of people feel cool. They feel like they can do lots of wonderful things... you've made so many people smile, Mettaton!"

Mettaton can feel Papyrus lean over and whisper very, very close to his ear: "And I _really_ want to make you smile tonight... audible wink."

"You have my full permission, sexy." And really, Mettaton isn't just saying that to make Papyrus feel better; Papyrus may give off vibes of being innocent and naive, but he and Mettaton have had so many amazing nights together, and Mettaton has learned so much about him, that he can say without a doubt that Papyrus is indeed very sexy.

He can hear a quiet "nyeh heh heh", and as Papyrus presumably leans back, the hands return. One finger slides around Mettaton's inner thigh; at first it's a simple back-and-forth motion, but it gradually begins to trace patterns into the synthetic skin. Now it's Mettaton's turn to giggle; _oh yes, it certainly is almost time for the main event._

It's when Papyrus introduces his tongue - that moist softness sliding up the most sensitive spot on Mettaton's leg - that Mettaton finally caves in and lets out his first real moan of the night. "Oh, Papyrus..."

Once the tongue reaches the top of Mettaton's thigh, it briefly goes away, and Papyrus whispers again. "Good?"

"Oh, yes..." He wishes he could look Papyrus in the eye and flutter his eyelashes playfully, but given the blindfold, he instead stretches his legs a little. "Don't hold back, babe..."

And indeed, for the next few minutes, Papyrus doesn't hold back. The warm tongue and cool phalanges work their magic on Mettaton's inner thighs; every now and then, the teeth join in, nuzzling at the flesh and even lightly nipping it once or twice. Occasionally, a hand trails to the outer thighs, mapping out the curves - even though this is far from undiscovered territory for either of them, Mettaton has never minded and probably never will. Indeed, he just can't stop moaning as Papyrus has fun with his legs; between himself and Papyrus, he honestly can't tell who's having more fun.

It isn't long, though, before Mettaton begins to feel that soft burning in his soul; it's the kind of want that literally hurts sometimes. The desire screams at Mettaton until he can't take it anymore.

"Darling..." Mettaton makes sure to tap the towel-covered mattress beneath him a few times - if he didn't, Papyrus would probably think it was a generic moan.

The movements stop. "Nyeh?"

He has his attention - good. Mettaton rests a hand on the smooth, clear casing on his stomach; even though his soul is well-protected beneath the sturdy casing, he doesn't need to use his hands to feel the quivering deep down in his core. "Please..."

Silence for a second or two. "Oh! Did you want me to go further?"

As an actor, Mettaton knows that sometimes actions speak louder than words, and he has no problems demonstrating that here. Without another word, he slides the casing open and literally bares his soul to the man he loves. It quivers more frantically than ever, and before long, he remembers to take deep breaths.

Inhale... exhale... just slow sips of air to regulate everything...

When something finally touches it - _oh my god thank you so much darling_ \- his first, split-second reaction is to sigh. This appendage that he quickly realizes is Papyrus' hand begins to slowly and delicately massage his heart, and the moans soon continue at their previous pace. So heavy is his exhaustion tonight that he would rather just let Papyrus play with his soul than try to muster up enough magic to form his cock. He just lies back and moans, his hips beginning to pulse a little - and even his moans manifest more quietly than they usually do on nights like these.

Papyrus' technique is exactly what Mettaton needs right now - a thumb sliding up and down the edge of the soul while another finger sticks itself in the crevice and the rest of the fingers work on what must be pure instinct. At this point, Mettaton's heart begins to emit slimy ectoplasm, but Mettaton doesn't even care - he's exhausted, and Papyrus is giving him that kind of touch he tends to crave.

Something soft and moist joins in - there's no questioning what it is, especially as it begins to lick the soul in places where the hand isn't touching. Mettaton's voice begins cutting out here and there, static flying from his voicebox when his moans fail him.

This goes on for many long minutes, and even though Mettaton can't see, he can still imagine everything - Papyrus giving him lovingly lusty looks, framed by the candles and rose petals - in such vivid detail that the sleeping mask almost doesn't matter. He gets louder and louder; it's still quiet by his usual standards, but he doesn't need to see Papyrus' face to know Papyrus understands. All of the other sensations - the dry, fluffy towel beneath him, the air hitting his body, the soft, silky bedding he's gripping out of range of the towel, and absolutely everything happening with his soul - begin to creep up on him, and he arches his back.

_Oh god I'm almost there just a little more come on_ please--

And with one final lick, the fireworks explode - he shudders as the dam bursts. "Ohhh yesss..."

Relief and euphoria crash into him from every angle as he moves without thinking - oh god, if he could speak coherently at this moment, he would tell Papyrus he loves him, and he'd say it so many times, because even though they've made love many times before, Papyrus cares so much about Mettaton's comfort that Mettaton doesn't get tired of it... nor will he ever get tired of wanting to return the favor.

And yet... times like these can make him _physically_ tired.

The inner fire eventually begins to sputter out, and as he feels Papyrus cleaning up the ectoplasm he undoubtedly leaked - _oh my, that must be a lot, I can't help myself, sweetie_ \- his body sees fit to remind him that he had been really tired at the start of the night. It's like someone or something has just thrown exhaustion over him like a heavy blanket; even without the blindfold, he can barely keep his eyes open.

He finally feels Papyrus closing his soul casing, hearing a click as it latches into place. Papyrus' voice follows. "When you're ready, can you flip onto your front? Don't take off the blindfold quite yet; I just want to make absolutely sure you're not tense anymore."

_Is this what I think it is?_ Usually, when Papyrus asks Mettaton to lie down on his stomach, it means only one thing - especially since Papyrus mentioned wanting to relieve Mettaton's tension. (And that towel probably isn't just to catch any residual _ectoplasm..._ ) It's for that reason that, after a moment, Mettaton finds just a little spark of strength returning more quickly than he'd thought; his body forgets to be tired for just long enough for him to flip himself over.

He hears and feels the mattress move as Papyrus crawls over to the other side and then returns, and then he hears something opening, followed by a faint whiff of roses. The smell grows stronger as he feels something drip onto his back - _oh yes this absolutely is what I think it is_ \- and when Papyrus' hands take over, it doesn't take long at all for him to moan.

Papyrus is so utterly amazing with his hands that, if Mettaton didn't know better, he'd honestly be surprised to learn that Papyrus isn't formally trained in massage therapy. He's barely even started, and his hands are already working wonders on Mettaton's aching muscles, kneading and pressing with just the right amount of pressure. (It certainly helps that Papyrus has a lot of experience in doing this for Mettaton; being as touch-starved as he is means Mettaton feels appreciated from something as small as a handshake, so a properly-done massage absolutely has a way of cheering him up.)

The voice returns, a surprisingly soft whisper. "Good?"

"Yes..." _Oh, it's more than good, sweetheart..._ At this rate, the only reason why Mettaton doesn't just go to Papyrus for all of his massages is because sometimes Mettaton has to leave town for work-related reasons. (Either that or he's bringing Papyrus with him to a local place so they can both have one - and nights like this will never fail to convince Mettaton that Papyrus deserves to be spoiled. Especially since, no matter how many times Mettaton spoils him, Papyrus never _becomes_ spoiled.)

For many long minutes, Papyrus' hands continue to work their magic; nearly everything from Mettaton's neck downward gets a turn with those hands, and by the time Papyrus asks Mettaton to flip back over so he can do his front, Mettaton himself can barely stay awake. He isn't even plugged in yet, and he already feels like drifting away into his dreams...

(Maybe his dreams could give him an idea of how to properly thank Papyrus for this?)

It all just feels like a blur now; Papyrus rubbing various parts of his body, Papyrus eventually opening the port on Mettaton's hip, Papyrus climbing off the bed and plugging in the charging cable...

...and when he feels Papyrus rejoining him on the bed, resting his skull on his chest, and pulling up the blankets, he finally surrenders to his exhaustion.

* * *

He opens his eyes. Every fiber of his being feels so much more refreshed, but he still can't see. "Huh...?" He reaches up to his eyes - oh, he's still wearing that sleeping mask. That's why.

A bony hand rests on top of his own. "Good morning, Metta! Don't take that off quite yet - I have to do one more thing first."

"Oh...? And what would that--?"

He stops himself as soon as he hears a familiar whirring - this is his polisher, one of his most common methods of cleaning himself. (And it used to be the only method before he became waterproof, but it feels so much like a massage that he understandably doesn't want to completely give it up.)

When he feels it move around his body, he goes limp once more and groans in happiness. Of course, he's not going to fall back asleep - the stuff Papyrus did for him last night makes him feel more ready than ever to take on the world today - but his heart still flutters. People like Papyrus don't show up all the time, but those who get to know them are very lucky indeed - and Mettaton never wants Papyrus to forget how much he's treasured.

Eventually, Papyrus switches it off and sets it down somewhere, and then Mettaton feels the hand grip his sleeping mask, before finally pulling it off.

Mettaton can see again, and he isn't sure what it is, but everything looks so much more colorful. The sun is brighter, the decorations in the room look more vibrant and cheerful, and as for the sweet skeleton smiling at him? Something comes over Mettaton and he cheerfully laughs and pulls Papyrus close before bathing him in a shower of kisses; interspersed with these kisses are such phrases as "I love you" and "Thank you", and Mettaton even seems to run through his entire dictionary of pet names in the process, and he means every single word because he hasn't woken up feeling this refreshed in a long time.

All the while, Papyrus himself seems to get lost in the moment, combing through Mettaton's hair with his long fingers - but then he seems to have a thought and taps Mettaton on the shoulder.

"Hmm?" Mettaton leans back.

Papyrus slips his hand into Mettaton's hand and gives him a smile. "Did you want to have breakfast?" Something shifts in both his eyes and his smile, and Mettaton feels an excited shiver at Papyrus' next words. "Or... would you like to have dessert first?"

Mettaton smirks. "Well, darling, I feel like I should thank you properly for last night."

"Wowie...!" Mettaton can feel Papyrus give off an excited shiver of his own...

...and before long, Mettaton's flipped Papyrus onto his back, and he's pressing kisses against each of his bare bones, feeling him tremble in excitement and hearing his bright laughter and moans.

Needless to say, it's at least a half-hour before they finally have breakfast - but they both agree that it's worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> This took way too long to write, and it was a little experimental (what with the present-tense sensory deprivation). I hope it came out well.


End file.
